[return to Contents Page]
Two weeks of rain. The smell of dampness in our clothes, in the linen closet, in the upholstery.
A monotonous beat to the rain. Dull plops on the roof and higher pitched bleeps on the metal drain pipes and gutters. Trees bent over with the added moisture. One branch of the maple, cracked and hanging by its sap. Garden flowers dragging in the mud. The sour odor of wet and rotting vegetation permeates the air.
nowhere to go—
the damp rooms echo